


Michaelmas

by elf_punk



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Post Season 15, Suggestive Themes, adam!michael
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:14:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28245237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elf_punk/pseuds/elf_punk
Summary: It's Michaelmas, but Michael isn't feeling all fond of himself. You make it your mission to change that.Post S15 AU in which Michael gets un-disintegrated, shacks up with the reader in a cute cottage and goes on Reddit.Light warnings for angsty, self-hating Michael but it'll soon give way to fluff. Implied smut/suggestive themes, nothing massively explicit.
Relationships: Michael (Supernatural)/You, Michael/Original Female Character(s), Michael/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	Michaelmas

As September crawled to a close, the days became shorter and the leaves browner as they mottled and fell. It was not yet cold enough to justify another layer of clothing, but still, you felt the unmistakable, early chill of winter pass through your bones as you trudged across the fallen garden leaves. Before ascending the stone steps, you noticed a discarded flyer nestled among the grass and turned it over with your foot, smiling fondly at the large, blue letters imprinted on it. 

_2021 Michaelmas Celebrations_

You picked up the flyer and carefully folded it, before tucking it into your jacket pocket and making a mental note to bring it up to Michael later. At the very least, you would mention the cartoon likeness of Michael on the flyer (a chubby angel stepping on the neck of a rather stupid-looking dragon) and wind him up like you always did whenever you came across a terrible drawing of him. _“Holy shit,”_ you would turn to him and exclaim, completely deadpan. _“You didn’t tell me you’d taken up modelling! I mean, they clearly drew this from reference.”_ you’d got him the first few times, cackling with laughter at the sight of his face contorted with confusion, but the more time he spent among humans, the more acclimated to sarcasm he became. Teasing the archangel was becoming more of a challenge, even without Adam around to explain the jokes. 

Brushing the thoughts to one side, you turned your key in the heavy-set oak door and shoved it open with both hands, grunting lightly at the effort. Feeling his presence in the house, you raised your eyebrows and called out clearly.

“You know, Michael- you’re pretty cool and everything, but it’d be great if we didn’t have a door it takes my entire body strength to open,” you began, stuffing your shoes in the corner of the hallway. “I mean sure, an apartment downtown isn’t your style and I _feel_ that but if we’re gonna do the whole remote cottage thing you might as well make it easy for me.”

You frowned at the silence that followed your words. While Michael was far from a chatterbox, he usually had an archangel-esque response to your idle complaints. At the very least, he would usually materialise in the hallway to greet you- something which never failed to amuse, given that in your small cottage, he was at most ten seconds away on foot at all times. 

Michael was certainly _here-_ you could sense his grace from across the yard. Following the warm, guiding energy of his grace to its source, you opened the door to the living room and almost instantly understood the reason for his uncharacteristic silence. 

Michael was sat in his favourite armchair, his furrowed brow framing sharp, blue eyes which were alight with thought. Though they softened marginally upon you’s entry into the room, Michael remained focused and did not stir. 

_Brooding,_ you thought with vague amusement. _I wonder what he saw on Reddit today._

“What are you thinking about this time, Michael?” you teased with a smirk. “Haven’t seen you this broody since I told you about Jersey Shore.”

Michael blinked, pondering your words for a moment before smiling wryly. 

“Yes, that piece of knowledge was quite unfortunate.” He began, heaving a deep sigh. “But human nonsense is not the cause of my troubles today. Earlier, I was reminded of something said to me by my brother near the end of our time together.”

Your eyes softened, and your lips formed a frown. _My brother._ He almost certainly meant Lucifer, the brother he loved and missed so deeply that he could not bring himself to speak his name. You crossed the room and joined Michael in his chair, nestling into the space between his chest and the arm-rest, and smiling as his hands instinctively wrapped around you, pulling you even closer still. In the months he had spent living on Earth, his tolerance for physical intimacy had improved tenfold- you now cringed at those early memories, where he would flinch at the slightest brush of your hand against his.

“What did you see?”

Michael paused, before cocking his head to one side.

“He called me a cuck.” Michael finally said, his voice low and controlled. You simply gaped at him, expecting the words to be followed with laughter and the admission of some sort of joke. When none came, you let out a sigh and turned your head to face Michael directly, your eyes meeting his.

“Michael you need to explain that to me,” you stated patiently. “Who called you a cuck? Luci-” Michael’s eyes flashed warningly at the name, causing you to stumble over your words and suck in a deep breath. “Your brother?”

“Yes.” He responded, casting his eyes away from you. “I saw the word used again on-” Michael paused thoughtfully, the lines around his eyes becoming apparent as he tried to remember. “Read-it?”

You chuckled fondly, running a hand across the back of Michael's neck and pinching softly.

“Yeah, Reddit,” you started, letting your hand drop to caress his back. “So, you were on Reddit and what- some basement king called someone a cuck and it reminded you of the past?”

“Yes. I was reminded of my brother. I was reminded of what it felt like to discover that my entire life-longer than you could possibly imagine, was a cog in a machine built to pass the time. And that even when I tried to do good, to help the Winchesters, I failed yet again and forsook them. Truthfully, it brought me to the conclusion that no part of my existence, spare for the time spent on Earth with Adam and now with you, was worth a damn.”

Michael’s words were slow and final, falling from hips lips like a faithless hymn. It took you several moments to conjure thought, having been ensnared in the majesty of Michael’s tone. A broken archangel was still an archangel, you thought sullenly. 

“He lied to you, Michael,” you said quietly, still recovering from the trance his voice cast over you. “He wasn’t who he thought you knew.”

“I knew this and served him nonetheless.”

“Yeah, you did. Was it a screw-up? Almost certainly. But it happened, and it’s over, and here we all are. D'you think you’re the only one in all of existence to crash and burn spectacularly? You suffered for years in the Cage, and returned to find your family all but dead and your dad going nuts on all of Creation.” 

You allowed your words to fall freely and made sure to avert Michael’s gaze, certain his piercing eyes would interrupt this stream of communication.

“You did your best to help and sure, yeah- you made a bad decision. But you were suffering and only ever acted out of love for your dad. Your mistake was the most human thing imaginable.” Michael’s eyes raised and you waved your hand quickly. “Yeah, alright I know you’re not _human_ but you get my drift. Besides, it’s like you said- that was then, this is now. Then-Michael had the oak tree up his ass, now-Michael is beautiful and loving, and so much better.”

Michael’s face morphed into a petulant frown, and he began to speak before closing his mouth. This repeated several times, his eyes lighting with conviction only to darken once he had discarded the thought. you watched him patiently, waiting for him to decide on a response. 

“I ought to be punished.” He said flatly, in a tone so defeated that it summoned tears to your eyes. Pained by the anguish clear in his voice, there were few words you could speak.

“You’ve suffered enough, Michael,” you said softly, allowing your eyes to fall on his face once more. “If you trust my judgement, then forgive yourself. I’ve forgiven you.” 

Understanding passed between you and slowly but surely, a smile crept onto Michael’s face. He pulled you close to him, as if afraid you would be taken away and buried his face in your sweet-smelling hair.

“Maybe I will someday. It won’t be easy. I spent an eternity slavishly following a father who valued me so little that he created another version of me.” 

“A sadistic, power-hungry, less hot version of you.”

Michael’s head turned sharply, so much so that you would have been startled had it not been for the slight tug at the corner of his mouth.

“You… prefer this vessel over Dean Winchester?” 

“Yeah,” you chucked somewhat awkwardly. As much as you liked a joke, it wasn’t often that Michael engaged you in such a line of questioning. Of course, he was stunning, with eyes like the ocean and soft dirty blond hair framing a boyish-looking face with the occasional smattering of light freckles. You’d always gotten along with Dean, but he was too gruff, too chiselled. The more you thought about the features of Michael, or rather Michael in Adam’s body, that you liked, the more relieved you were that your magic could ward against his telepathy. Despite Michael being as old as creation itself, something told you that he would find the content of your fantasies quite overwhelming. 

“Your eyes are beautiful,” you managed to say, in a marked attempt to keep the atmosphere wholesome. Even now, the feeling of his hands tracing patterns down your sides and the warmth from his body were conjuring image after splendid image of all sorts of compromising things. You slapped yourself mentally. _No lewding archangels. Not today._

“My eyes?” He murmured softly. “I suppose we can be grateful that in my entire worthless existence, I managed to find a vessel whose eyes you liked.”

You made a _tsk_ sound, planting a kiss to a mole on the base of Michael’s neck and murmuring something vaguely along the lines of _“not worthless”_ into his skin.

“Do you think you could bear my absence tonight? I have a few things to attend to.” 

You pulled away to face him, eyes concerned and defiant. Michael chuckled softly and gave you a knowing smile.

“Don’t fret, I’ll return soon.”

“Yeah, I know you will,” you began testily. “You’re not going out for a pack of cigarettes on my watch.”

“Cigarettes? I don’t-”

“Never mind,” you continued with a wave of your hand. ”Where are you going? It’s late, and you’re not feeling good. You should stay here,” you finished lamely, realising how stupid it was to imply that the second most powerful being in the Universe ought to have a curfew. Michael seemed to be thinking along the same lines and sighed his dissent.

“If I’m murdered I’ll be sure to let you know.” 

“Yeah, now you decide to start understanding how sarcasm works,” you muttered. Michael just smiled, readying himself to leave.

“Michael?” you continued, softening your tone.

"Yes?" He responded patiently.

“I love you.”

***

The church was silent. The stained glass windows scattered light evenly, with deep hues of red, blue and green illuminating the hall. An altar stood at the head of the church, over which a brilliant white sheet was draped. It sat directly under a magnificent crucifix which even in the dead of night, seemed to possess a ghostly glow. Michael stood before the altar, eyes skimming past the crucifix and resting on the likeness of himself erected in pure white marble. Sword and shield on hand, this statue version of himself stood mighty, as a sworn protector of humanity and an eternal enforcer of the will of God.

The Michael of yesteryear. 

Michael, for the most part, never desired worship, nor was he particularly keen to see his name and image branded across human civilisation. He had made it his sacred duty, however, to burnish the image of his father in splendour and ensure humans worshipped _His_ image at the very least. He would endure the prayers of humanity if it secured their faith in God. Now, the images sickened him. He was wholly, entirely unworthy of the love and devotion placed in him by humanity, his betrayal of the Winchesters acting as proof of this. 

You had forgiven him. You had done what he could not. 

Suddenly, Michael was filled with regret- why had he come _here,_ to this church for comfort? Once it had been a place of refuge, but tonight, St. Michael’s church filled him with melancholy and guilt. He had been wrong to leave you at home but then again, his masochistic mind always led him to seek comfort in the wrong places. Your parting words affected him more than he could bear to show- every time the words fell from your lips, time itself seemed to stop around him, leaving nothing but your face, voice and soul bared to him in the vast expanse of creation.

He knew where his salvation lay. It wasn’t in the marble of statues, nor was it in the Winchesters or Jack Kline. It was in you. Within moments, he materialised in your bedroom- the cottage was small, with a single bedroom large enough to accommodate you both. Given that Michael had no need for sleep, the room was yours for all intents and purposes, but he often liked to hold you while you slept. Your sleep was frequently broken or disturbed and today, you were curled up in a tight ball in the centre of the bed, muscles visibly tense. 

“No… stop.” you groaned in your sleep. Michael’s eyes narrowed in concern and he started towards you, keen to free you of the nightmare that was surely plaguing you. 

“Michael, stop… you’re adding too much amber. You’re gonna smother the thyme.”

Michael let out an audible laugh, knowing exactly which memory you were dreaming of. A few weeks ago, you had enlisted his help in brewing a potion, which as you both learned, was not his strong suit. " _How someone older than creation itself can't brew a healing potion I don't know…"_ you had lightly scolded him. Not yet wanting to wake you, Michael simply watched you sleeping form with a lazy, fond smile. He could no longer bury the joy he felt just looking at you, nor could he ignore the ache that began in his heart whenever you were parted.

“Couldn’t get enough of me, eh?” A sleepy voice drawled from the bed. "Had to come back and watch me sleep. What are you, some kind of creep?" 

"I should never have left to begin with." Michael sighed, seating himself beside your slowly waking form and running his finger over your cheek. "Forgive me?"

"If you cuddle me I might think about it." 

Michael didn't need to be asked twice. With a snap of his fingers, he rid himself of most of his clothing and enveloped your body in the protective hold he’d learned you liked, with one hand thrown across your waist and the other supporting your head. 

"Are you thinking about it, dove?" Michael murmured into your hair.

You yawned and shifted slightly in his grip.

“Yeah. I’ll let it pass today. But next time you won’t be so lucky, mister.” 

Michael smiled and relaxed into the soft pillows. He did not have the luxury of sleep, but it didn’t matter- lying wide awake with his arms around you and keeping you safe from all that would do you harm was something he would gladly do for an eternity. As your body warmed to him, his mind began to wander into foreign territory. He thought about the physical intimacy you shared, and while all time spent with you, physical or otherwise, fulfilled him completely, he suspected that you were beginning to want more than soft kisses and cuddling on the armchair.

“Is there anything else you’re thinking about?” He spoke softly, lips grazing the shell of your ear. The effect was instantaneous. Your breathing deepened and you pressed yourself harder into his embrace. Taking your response as a positive sign, Michael continued his soft affections along your waist, gradually moving to your thighs. The baser instincts that came with having a human body were clouding his mind, flustering him and slowing his thoughts. Had it not been for his closeness to you, he would have struggled to describe the experience as _enjoyable_ per-se. It was intense and unlike anything he could ever experience in his true form. His thought-spiral was interrupted by you placing soft kisses to his neck, resulting in a sharp intake of breath from the angel. 

“Sorry,” you said quickly, concern lacing your voice. “I got a bit carried away. I think about this a lot, I never actually thought it would happen.”

“It was unexpected, but I liked it,” Michael said, smiling. “I think I’d like just about anything so long as it was you doing it.”

“Okay you really don’t wanna hold yourself to that,” you said with a devilish glint in your eye. “The things I want are less than heavenly.”

“In case you haven’t noticed,” Michael said trailing his hands up towards your chest. “I’m no longer in heaven.”

Michael wasn’t sure what it was that caused his mind to cloud over completely, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the utter bliss he felt making the fantasies he never even knew he had, a reality.

***

It was past noon when you awoke. You opened your eyes to the sight of Michael gazing at you very intensely, almost amusingly so. His arms were wrapped around you protectively and much to your disappointment, he had magicked your pyjamas back at some point while you slept. Letting your eyes trail across his face and along his jaw, you smiled in disbelief. As soon as he registered your awakedness, Michael smiled tenderly and petted your hair.

“Are you ever not gonna spend the whole night staring at me?” 

You can’t blame me- I don’t sleep and you insist on having me in your bed like some sort of…” he pondered for a moment. “Teddy bear. Watching you scold me over potion ingredients in your sleep is scraping the barrel entertainment-wise but it”ll do.” 

You laughed.

“You’re already sassing me off?”

“Don't worry, my love.” He chided. "T'was just a joke."

His words caused your face to grow pensive. There was no question that you loved Michael - ever since you had been introduced by the Winchesters in a joint effort against the schemes of Lucifer, you had felt very deeply for the archangel. The others called him haughty, deluded and pitied his devotion to his father, but you had only ever seen him as beautiful. you were _sure -_ or at least, you hoped with every fibre of your being that he loved you too, but the words had never fallen from his mouth. Maybe it was different for angels? Still, the term of endearment caused the question to run wild.

“Do you love me, Michael?” 

Michael responded with a knowing smile.

“There isn’t a word in your language to describe what I feel about you.”

Your eyes fell, and Michael frowned sadly. He placed the thumb previously caressing your hand under your chin, prompting you to look at him.

“Have I said something wrong?” He asked. You sighed and collected your thoughts before responding.

“No. It’s what you _haven’t_ said.'' Michael's eyes narrowed even further, causing you to let out a sound of frustration. “I just thought that since you'd called me _my love_ ,” you began with air quotes, “you would be able to, I don’t know… tell me you loved me. Things are probably different with you feathery guys, but I can’t tell what your feelings are unless you explain them to me in a way I understand. Otherwise… you just make me think that what I feel is lesser because I’m a primitive human or something. S’not really fair,” you finished sadly, pulling your chin away from Michael’s thumb. 

The archangel was silent for several moments as he took in your grievances, cooly contemplating his next words. 

“Look at me please,” he finally said softly. Your head cocked upwards as if driven by a remote, the feathery quality of his voice bringing a lull and submission over you. As soon as his eyes locked with yours, you began to notice a soft glow behind Michael, which slowly intensified until it enveloped you both in swirling, cascading tendrils of light. 

His wings. 

“Michael, I-” you were silenced by Michael very softly placing his finger over your lips.

“My reasons have nothing to do with you, or what you are capable of feeling,” he murmured softly. “You’re capable of more than I could ever imagine.”

You felt yourself slipping into a trance-like state as Michael’s voice poured over you, his incandescent wings cradling your body.

“To you, the words _I love you_ capture your feelings. You were raised around the concept, it has meaning to you. I share no such understanding. There is no word in any human language that I am able to connect to what I feel for you.” Michael pursed his lips, deeply considering his next words. “What we feel for one another is different, but you’re wrong in thinking that one is lesser than the other. We come from different places, and can express our love with the words of such places. In your place, the words are _I love you._ Do you understand?”

You nodded, too in awe of the beauty before you to form coherent words. 

“These are my wings, and they’re as much mine as they are yours. Think of me showing you these and holding you in them as my way of saying _I love you,_ ” Michael sighed. “You’re so beautiful. I’m very sorry for making you doubt the reciprocity of my feelings. I love you, in your way and mine.”

An eternity could have passed as you lay suspended in space and time, lost to the grace and beauty of Michael’s wings. You didn’t need to hear Michael say he loved you because you felt it in every cell of your body.

***

The next day passed, as did the one after that, in a busy scramble. You were hot on the tail of a suspicious warlock who had been selling cursed cauldrons which burst into flame and shouted _“Poo!”_ whenever one tried to brew a potion in it. Michael had been hunting local demons, ghouls and beasts almost nonstop- it was as though they had chosen these few days to make a tremendous resurgence. It had been a very long time since Michael had felt tired, but the almost constant onslaught of conflict had worn him down. He was eager to spend time with you again.

He was once again, sitting in his armchair contemplating anything and everything when you walked in. You were beautiful- even through your obvious tiredness, he could tell that your mind was alight.

“What are you planning, my cherub?” Michael asked sweetly. You narrowed your eyes.

“Yeah, so that nickname would be cute if I didn’t know what cherubs actually look like,” you replied with light disgust. “Anyway, if it’s not too much for Adam’s body, I’d like you to come with me. I have a surprise for you.”

Michael laughed in disbelief, throwing his head back.

“A surprise? Does this involve the Winchesters by any chance?”

“Fuck no,” you laughed, “it involves you getting up off your feathery behind and taking a walk with me.”

“Yes ma’am,” Michael replied in mock reverence before getting to his feet and taking your arm. “Lead the way.”

The walk was uneventful- save for you almost tripping over a fallen branch, you and Michael passed through the woody surroundings peacefully. Finally, you emerged from the forest and followed a pebbled path into town until you met a bright blue banner draped across two posts. 

_2021 Michaelmas Fair_

Michael’s eyes softened and he turned sharply to you.

“What- where are-”

“We’re just downtown Michael,” you said soothingly. “I guess you forgot- it’s September 29th- Michaelmas. Your feast day. The village always has a fair to celebrate it.”

An unreadable expression swept across Michael’s features, but it was soon replaced with a soft smile and a squeeze of your hand. 

“Thank you for bringing me here, my love. You’re right, I had forgotten.”

You were sure that Michael was uncertain about this, and was going along with it to appease you, so you kissed him gently on the cheek and gestured around you. Everywhere you looked, there were bright-faced children with paper swords and radiant smiles, running around and smiting imaginary dragons. Their parents watched with fondness and joy, clutching their flyers on which clear words could be viewed: _Quis Ut Deus._

“Look at all the happiness here, Michael. It’s all you.” You said softly, encouraging him to look around. “We don’t have to stay if you don’t want to, but I just wanted you to see this. Humanity loves you, and you’ve brought them all this joy.”

Overcoming his trepidation, Michael allowed himself to take in his surroundings. He couldn't peel his eyes away from the happy, smiling faces of children or the loving eyes of their parents. All of these humans, for all of their suffering and darkness, had in them something that shone with beauty- faith. Whether or not he deserved it was of no consequence in the face of such pure, unfiltered happiness- it only mattered that it was there. And while he had fallen short of his duties to these beautiful people, their love for what was at least, his image, filled him with the desire to do better. These humans loved him, and love them back he would.

"I'd like to stay," Michael said warmly, giving you a dazzling smile and leading you forward into the fair.

Everywhere he looked, there was colour. Ribbons in the hair of children, or bright shades of blue and purple radiating from the stalls. The fairground rides twinkled under the sky, in perfect harmony with the joyful laughter of those who rode them. You were a small distance away, chatting with the owner of one of the art stalls; his heart was filled with more love than he could bear. Michael was pulled from his wonder by a small voice from behind him.

"M-mister?"

Michael turned around, to be met with the face of a small girl no older than five or six looking up at him with big green eyes. She looked sad and distressed, prompting Michael to bend to her level and radiate calmness over her soul. The effect was instant; her trembling eased and she was able to speak clearly.

"I've lost my daddy," she said sadly. "He was next to the helter-skelter and then lots of people walked past and I lost him. I'm scared."

Instantly, Michael opened a gentle telepathic link with the girl, as well as everybody in the fair and scanned their minds in search of the little girl's father. Very quickly, he caught sight of a green-eyed man running frantically from person to person, asking after his daughter. _"She's only five! I had her by the helter-skelter and she's just gone!"_ He babbled, distraught and afraid. He could pinpoint the man's location to a pottery stall about five minutes away- seeing that you were still deep in conversation with the stall owner with no indication of leaving soon, he took the little girl's hand and smiled at her.

"Don't worry, little one. I know where your daddy is- I'll take you to him. You're quite safe with me."

The girl's eyes lit up with joy and she jumped up and down.

"Thank you! Are you my guardian angel?" She pressed, her face suddenly pensive. 

Michael cocked his head and smiled knowingly, as he began to lead the child towards her father.

"What makes you say that?"

"Well," she began thoughtfully, "my daddy says that angels look after us when we're scared or hurt. Like Michael- he's very strong and has a big big sword that he uses to keep bad things away!" She threw her arms open as she spoke. "My daddy told me that Michael and the other angels protect us and keep us safe, and that when we need them, they're there for us. And that we'll know when they're there, and all we need to do is ask for help. I was scared and then I saw you, and I know I had to ask you for help."

"Your daddy is right," Michael said. "Angels are here to help people, and I am here to help you."

"I knew it!" She laughed, but she suddenly stopped and began thinking again. "Are you angry with me for stealing a chocolate from daddy's box yesterday?" 

Michael let out a hearty laugh and looked fondly at the child. 

"No. I will keep you safe no matter what. I think your daddy would like it if you told him the truth though."

The girl nodded her head sharply and smiled.

"Okay, I will. Thank you, Mr. Angel!"

Before long, Michael and the young girl came upon a middle-aged man rushing from person to person, asking after his daughter.

"Excuse me, Sir." Michael said softly, tapping the distraught man on the shoulder. The man turned quickly, all anxiety melting from his face as soon as he met Michael’s soft blue eyes. “I believe I’ve found your daughter.”

“Julia!” The man exclaimed, scooping his daughter into his arms and hugging her close. “Thank you, thank you so much! It all happened so fast, thank God you found her. You’re an angel!”

At his words, the little girl named Julia gave Michael a knowing giggle and returned to hugging her father. The sincerity and gratefulness in the man’s voice moved Michael, and he wondered how on Earth he had once viewed humanity as little more than insects clinging to the dirt. 

“That’s no problem. Goodbye, Julia,” Michael spoke softly, giving the girl a little wave. As he turned away, he sensed you asking after him- you had finished with the stall.

As dutifully as he had returned the little girl to her father, he returned to you, with keen new purpose and a renewed love for humanity. 


End file.
